


Feast of Plenty

by Capzi



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Crowley Faces the Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Cunnilingus, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Squirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-24 19:23:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20019760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capzi/pseuds/Capzi
Summary: Aziraphale is starving for Crowley, who absolutely agrees it is a Good Idea to have sex, one hundred percent, absolutely, beyond a shadow of a doubt! Except. Well.When you have limitless demonic power on your hands, can something still be a problem if you really, REALLY don't want it to be?





	Feast of Plenty

**Author's Note:**

> Anyone else consumed by a burning, passionate need for Crowley to have a vagina? Yes? this fandom is the greatest.

* * *

“Oh!” Aziraphale gasped suddenly. “I forgot. I told your neighbor, Mrs. Whatsit, t-something, Traeger? Teller? Tashimoto?”

“Mrs. Kramer.”

“That’s the one. I told her I’d bring by a copy of _Glenarvon_ next time I came around, for her literature exams. I’ve got four on the shelves now, and you know I find the Lady Catherine a bit glossy so I didn’t see the harm in offering…”

Of course, this digression would have been charming over dinner or the good Malbec they’d shared after, possibly even adorable depending on how generous Crowley was feeling. Which fell on the side of ‘less’ at the moment.

They had retired to his bedroom, the lights pleasantly dim, and Aziraphale settled even more pleasantly between his spread thighs. Crowley himself was propped up against a soft mound of pillows that hadn’t been there this morning, previously engaged with accepting Aziraphale’s mouth against his. That quickly seemed like a very long time ago.

“… but she does _love_ him, despite the financial burden this new hobby is putting on their marriage. When your wife decides to go back to school, it’s not really the best time to pick up competitive eating, in my opinion.”

“What’s he eating competitively?” Crowley asked, curious in spite of himself.

“Hot dogs. Apparently it’s common.”

“Hmmmf.” Crowley spent a moment debating if an innuendo would help or hinder in getting the evening back on track. Aziraphale could be funny that way.

“Never much liked hot dogs,” he finally added, deciding to play it safe even as he let his hands drift back down Aziraphale’s sides. They were both fully dressed, and it was starting to make him feel squirmy.

“I do,” Aziraphale announced, dipping in to nibble at Crowley’s tattoo. He held Crowley by either side of the face and firmly turned him for a better angle.

“Of course you do,” Crowley couldn’t help teasing. “If humans have invented a food you _don’t_ like, they’re either deliberately hiding it, or it’s at a truck stop somewhere in the middle of America. Gluttony is a sin that can fall an angel.” He bucked his hips up against Aziraphale’s suggestively.

“Oh, you’re a rotten old serpent,” Aziraphale hummed, nosing now under Crowley’s ear. “What about lust then? What can _that_ do?”

“Lust is only a knockoff of the same brand,” Crowley mumbled, going for Aziraphale’s ass.

“Ah, well in that case…” Aziraphale smiled into Crowley’s neck before resuming his feather-soft kisses, playing oblivious to what Crowley’s lower half was doing to his. Gently, he pulled the skinny little necktie away from existence and snapped open all the buttons below so he could nibble and suck a hot, glorious line down Crowley’s chest.

Crowley did squirm now, burning so brightly under his skin he could taste his own arousal. He thrust up against the warm, full body in his hands but as usual, nothing could make Aziraphale move faster than he intended to go. No sooner had he had the thought before a bite to his nipple made him hiss.

“What would you have me do, darling?” Aziraphale whispered, pressing an innocent kiss to his stomach.

The possibilities nearly choked Crowley, each bubbling up more intriguing and naughtier than the last. All very good, but only one best.

“Whatever,” he panted, “whatever you like.”

Aziraphale came back up to nuzzle into his neck. His voice dropped to a buttery purr.

“If you really think I’m such a glutton, then why don’t you let me prove myself. Thai’s nice enough, but I am still hungry, and I’d like nothing better than to eat your cunt.”

Crowley froze. Was it even possible to feel so turned on your actual bone marrow throbbed _and_ ice crystals of anxiety dancing down your spine? Absolutely not. Maybe. Yes. Definitely, because it was happening right now, and as the snake-tongued smooth talker, it was his divine duty to reply with something more coherent than “Ngkf,” which is regrettably what he did.

He shook himself slightly before Aziraphale had time to respond.

“Thought you liked hot dogs.”

 _Exceptionally_ smooth and clever. Time for innuendo after all.

Instead of pursing his lips and sighing, or rolling his eyes with an indulgent _“Well,_ then!” Aziraphale frowned and pulled away.

“Crowley, forgive me. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“Shove that apology. It’s not such a big deal.”

“But it is!”

“It’s not. Just caught me off guard, is all. It was a perfect suggestion, angel, and impressively filthy.”

“I’ve been reading magazines,” Aziraphale said with a hint of pride. His face was still troubled though, and his gaze never strayed from Crowley’s eyes. “You don’t have to talk yourself into it, my dear boy. Your cock is more than magnificent and felt very lovely to rub against just now.”

“I want it, though,” Crowley admitted before his pride could catch up to his desire. “Your mouth, your hands, anything you’d like to give me, there. Hang on.”

He shut his eyes and imagined himself wet. Soft. Aching from the inside rather than the out, and hot in that mysterious, intimate way.

Aziraphale gave a little shudder and Crowley wondered if it was at the mere realization of what had occurred, or if he too could smell the change in the air.

“You _will_ tell me if it begins to hurt or you feel uncomfortable in _any_ way,” Aziraphale said with the air of someone who hadn’t forgotten how to give commands. His hands twitched but he didn’t move from the foot of the bed.

“Always do,” Crowley insisted. He slid his thighs back apart, leaving far more room than was necessary for the sheer joy of watching Aziraphale follow the movement hungrily. For good measure, he vanished his own boots and trousers himself.

 _“Oh,”_ Aziraphale sighed, collapsing down across the bed. “You are beautiful.”

Along with the more important adjustment, Crowley had swapped out his briefs for a pair of black silk knickers, which pressed snugly against his mound. Heavens, that was good. This part was so easy and nice, he softly wetting the front of the silk and Aziraphale’s lovely hands under his knees, tilting him back for a better look.

Reverently, Aziraphale eased slow kisses up his inner thigh, mouthing the delicate skin with quiet little hums. Once he had finally, _finally,_ met the elastic line of the black silk, he switched over to the other leg and began the agonizing journey again.

Crowley flung his head back into the pillows, dizzy now with anticipation.

“There’s never been a ssssaint with the patience to outlast this torture.”

“Perhaps a demon might have better luck then.”

Crowley really wished he wouldn’t say such things, not only because it took away his lips, but because Aziraphale got this ridiculous twinkle in his eye when he was being clever, and even if he refused to look down, it still turned Crowley inside out to know it was there.

Aziraphale gave a careful nibble at the top of his hipbone, once again holding Crowley just where he wanted him, against the mattress. Then without warning, he bit down, at the same time he used his thumb to rub Crowley’s clit through his panties.

_“Fuck!”_

Crowley’s hips stuttered up into the motion. He was extraordinarily sensitive like this, something Aziraphale knew well and would definitely exploit. Right on cue, he began to circle his thumb slowly, creating the most decadent friction through the smooth fabric.

Crowley whined, feeling the heat inside his cunt grow liquid and spill over. Sparks of pleasure built low in his belly. His whole body felt tight and electric.

“You mentioned eating,” he gasped out.

Aziraphale made a soft, happy sound against his knee.

“Believe me, it’s taking all I have to keep from diving right in. But I want to watch you, first.”

He pressed down hard for a breath’s length, bringing Crowley to a full-body sweat and his clit to a throbbing point. Crowley hissed and thrust up, but just as quickly they were back to those infernal circles.

“You could come like this,” Aziraphale said conversationally. “Muss up those delightful little knickers. Perhaps you will.”

Crowley shook his head rapidly.

“No, _no,_ more, angel. Take them off.”

He finally glanced down, imploringly, and sure enough, Aziraphale was already staring up at him, twinkle in place.

“If you’re certain-”

_“Yes,_ Aziraphale!”

The friction stopped, the damp silk slid down over his legs and away, and Crowley was left bare-bottomed on the comforter. _Open your legs for him,_ he told himself sternly, trying not to be annoyed when it was another few seconds before he was able to obey.

Aziraphale smiled beatifically, sinking back down to his place. His thumb brushed up Crowley’s dark pubic hair (in agreement over something inconsequential for once, neither of them understood the current mania for shaving) and began stroking again.

“Isssssss good,” Crowley sighed, relaxing. Aziraphale’s circles built larger, going from the top of his clit all the way down to the bottom of his lips, gliding soft and slippery.

“You’re so wet for me, my dear.” It sounded like high praise, and another filthy admission. “So lovely like this, temptation itself.”

Crowley – who was grinding himself into the motion, mouth open – jerked suddenly and came with a whimper. His cunt pulsed hotly against Aziraphale’s fingers, clenching on nothing, satisfied but not. He moaned low in his throat.

“Lovely,” Aziraphale repeated, kissing the bite on his hipbone. “So much so, I believe I need to see it again.”

In theory, there were no limits on the what, where, or how of angelic and demonic miracles. In practice, they both tended to slip a bit after two bottles of cognac or one really brilliant orgasm. (Human things, Crowley decided. Reasonable, then) This was why Aziraphale sometimes nosed for pussy when it was his turn as giver: much as he enjoyed sucking Crowley’s cock, he liked to _keep going,_ building Crowley again and again until both of them were exhausted enough to sleep for a week.

“Let me recover a moment, won’t you?” Crowley groused, throwing a forearm across his face. The tension coursing through his body had been broken but restrung in an instant at the sound of slick pop. Crowley cracked open one eye only to be greeted with Aziraphale sucking his fingers into his mouth. “Oh come now, _that_ isn’t fair.”

“I haven’t any idea what you’re talking about,” Aziraphale said thickly, the very same, distracted way he’d answer Crowley over a spoonful of ice cream or slice of sponge cake. “You rest, dear, and let me enjoy the fruits of my labor…” The end of the sentence fizzled off on a groan as Aziraphale pulled the knuckle of his first finger across his lips and closed his eyes in pleasure.

Crowley’s clit ached with sudden interest and his chest hitched. He seized one of the pillows behind him, thrust it under his hips, lifting his lower half to a tantalizing angle, and let his knees inch open even wider.

“This is a buffet, angel, not tea in the garden. No finger food allowed.”

Aziraphale looked him up and down appraisingly, the very portrait of propriety in his coat and bowtie. But his cheeks were flushed, and he still held the tip of his thumb between his front teeth.

“You are _delicious,_ Crowley,” he exhaled, and returned once more, all the way down on his stomach and elbows, to his spot between Crowley’s thighs. “Sinfully so. Yours is my favorite taste on my tongue.”

“Alright then, no need to g– _oh.”_

That tongue spread flat across the whole of Crowley’s tender slit. Aziraphale gave a few long, slow licks, as if the flavor was really so delightful he couldn’t stop himself from savoring. Crowley curled handfuls of comforter in his fists, equally powerless to stop his short grunts at every touch. He felt slick and loose from his first orgasm, and it was still easy to let himself be devoured.

“Angel…‘Ziraphale, _please.”_

He rocked his hips down and Aziraphale responded by opening him up on his tongue, pressing with the tip just barely inside.

Crowley’s stomach fluttered with that irritating combination of arousal and fear. He _wanted_ this. The angel he loved was giving him head, so there wasn’t a thing in the world beyond his grasp, nothing too high to hope for, not a single desire that should go unmet. It felt good, and he wanted to keep going. Simple as that. Crowley was nothing if not imaginative, so if he could picture himself stuffed full and ecstatic about it, so it would be.

Aziraphale sank his tongue deep enough to lick Crowley from the inside.

“Ummmf,” Crowley grit out, and there was no possible way to make it into a pleasured sound, meaning Aziraphale – damn it all to heaven or hell, whoever was available – stopped again.

“No, don’t,” Crowley began, reaching for him, but Aziraphale pinned both hands to the bed above their heads and leaned over Crowley with a heavy expression.

“You lied to me. You said you’d tell me if it was too much.”

“I will!”

“No, Crowley. I heard you, I _felt_ you. Getting anything inside you isn’t an option tonight.”

“Don’t be stupid, I can –”

“I said no.” Aziraphale pressed down with more force, using the weight of his noncorporal being. His blue eyes were shiny. He closed them and sighed, warm against Crowley’s neck. “My dear boy. I love you so entirely. I won’t hurt you.”

There was a beat of silence. Crowley used it to try for some smart retort, unsuccessfully. Aziraphale didn’t move.

Finally,

“Doesn’t make any sense. _I_ made the damn thing. Can’t understand how it could be defective.”

Crowley bit his lip, amazed the words had even come to mind, let alone left his mouth.

“I didn’t mean that.”

Aziraphale looked down at him with a pained scrunch to his eyebrows. But then, out of nowhere, he laughed. The noise shook them both and he let go of Crowley, still chortling softly.

“What is it?” Crowley leaned up on his elbows, watching not without some more anxiety.

Aziraphale smiled self-consciously.

“You always have had a hard time letting me in.”

Crowley groaned and fell back against the pillows, feigning disgust.

“I refuse to acknowledge such a bad pun. _Unspeakable,_ that is. And you’re meant to be the clever one.”

“Completely unforgivable, I’m afraid,” Aziraphale said, and now his smile held the warmth much better suited to him. “You know it doesn’t matter to me, being able to penetrate you one way or another. Sex with you is wonderful, but only if you’re enjoying yourself just as much.”

“Always do,” Crowley smirked, then reconsidered when fire alit in Aziraphale’s stare. “Oy, I mean it this time! Promise!”

“Alright then.” Aziraphale ran his fingertips along Crowley’s hips, purposefully not dipping any lower. “You truly are beautiful, darling, in any form. It’s a pleasure just to be able to look at you.”

Crowley slowly pulled away his jacket and waistcoat, naked in full now. Aziraphale watched with a quiet hum.

“Beautiful. You really do think so.”

It was a statement, not a question. Aziraphale nodded and pulled Crowley a bit closer from under his knees. The area had grown sensitive again, leaving him gasping.

“I love to see you enter the shop, full of happiness when you come to drive me to dinner. Love your hands on the steering wheel. Love your fingers playing over a champagne flute.”

Aziraphale kissed Crowley’s throat, maddening in his softness.

“I love to watch you walk. Swaying your hips in those tight jeans, flashing that bit of chest. I love your hair and your eyes and your cheekbones, love your wrists and your stomach and your ass.”

Crowley writhed against the mattress. He was so wet it ran down the length of his cunt, cooling on his hot skin. Aziraphale was speaking now into the crease of his right thigh, still not touching anywhere it counted and somehow, maddeningly, still clothed.

“And I love seeing you come. You can’t know how _extraordinary_ you are splayed out for me, panting and sweating like a human, unable to stop yourself from begging for more. I could watch you forever.”

“I believe you,” Crowley whispered, shivering. He stared down at Aziraphale, who kept perfect eye contact as he bent his head so that his lips brushed Crowley’s clit.

“You’d better,” he murmured, and lapped at the juices.

Crowley’s heel hit the bed and a desperate whine rose out of his nose more than his mouth. Aziraphale turned ravenous, trading long, luxurious licks and quick, sloppy kisses. He sucked Crowley’s clit until it pulsed between his lips, then dipped down for every drop of fragrant warmth.

Crowley buried his hands in Aziraphale’s hair and pulled.

“Angel!”

He came with such a gush that he could hear himself sloshing on Aziraphale’s lips. He whimpered for mercy, but Aziraphale didn’t let up, just planted his hands on Crowley’s hips and pressed harder, moved slower, slurped back the mess of come and saliva without ever venturing inside Crowley’s throbbing cunt.

The comforter was soaked, the air thick with raw, musky sex. Crowley trembled. His wings shook, threatening to burst into this plane of existence as he gripped Aziraphale’s mouth to the edge of his body.

“Don’t stop,” he moaned. “Don’t ask questions, don’t talk back, just give me a little more. Please. _Please.”_

Without skipping a beat, Aziraphale reached down and ran two fingertips over the fat curves of Crowley’s slit. He went back to sucking, his own little groans and sighs betraying his deep arousal. His fingers didn’t move but Crowley did, urging his hips up and over until they just pushed at the heat of his cunt.

Aziraphale managed to keep his hand perfectly in place and hook his fingers _up_ into a hidden, delicate place and all the sensations in the world clattered to pieces.

Crowley bucked and swore, clamped down and thrust up, howled and hissed in astonished pleasure. His cunt shook again and again, pulsing until he was sure he’d die, for certain this time.

The bed creaked. Aziraphale rose upright, his face, collar, and bowtie drenched, and Crowley’s stomach dropped as he realized that was his doing.

“Angel,” he croaked. “Aziraphale, I’m so sor –”

“If you are going to even _think_ of apologizing, I would beg you to reconsider.”

Aziraphale sounded oddly tight in the throat, cheeks red, lips wet, and positively glowing with a flux of emotion. Ah, love, actually.

Crowley sank into the bed, feeling barely able to keep his eyes open but suddenly giddy.

“I’ve never done _that_ before. Rather think you could go into some kind of competitive eating yourself, with skills like that.”

“It’s all only for you, darling.” Aziraphale gave him a kiss, sweetly prim for someone who tasted of heat and come.

Crowley’s eyes flew open as another realization hit.

“Aziraphale! But you, you didn’t get to–”

“I did. The second time as you.” His gaze turned even more affectionate. “I couldn’t have held myself back, watching you come undone.”

Crowley wiggled so that his face was hidden into the crook of his arm.

“T’hanks,” he murmured. “For, you know. Even when I can’t… you know.”

He could _feel_ Aziraphale beaming and guessed what he was too shy to say had been heard anyway. As usual.

The hands resting atop his hips seized him tightly again and turned, flipping him effortlessly to his stomach. Crowley landed with a _whump!_ facedown on a pillow.

“Angel?”

With careful consideration, Aziraphale knocked in his knees so that Crowley’s backside was once more raised in the air. Crowley instinctively gripped the pillow with both hands and shivered as Aziraphale greedily parted his ass.

“You’ve been so good to me, dear, letting me have your delicious body.”

A trickle of his own come ran down Crowley’s thigh, and Aziraphale followed it back up with his tongue. Crowley let his eye fall closed once more and a shuddering moan pushed him back into Aziraphale’s grasp.

“But I’m afraid it’s only made me hungry for dessert.”

**Author's Note:**

> (d'y'all know how hard it was to resist throwing a sushi pun in here)


End file.
